


In On the Storm

by Bluemel88



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemel88/pseuds/Bluemel88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Princess Bubblegum prepares for battle.<br/>Somewhat AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rising Column

Chapter One: Rising Column

It was early afternoon, and after a languid luncheon full of diplomats and stodginess, Princess Bubblegum listened to the afternoon report with less enthusiasm than normal, pushing a single pink lock out of her tired blue eyes. Peppermint Butler, ever the vision of duty and order, droned on about this and that, punctuating certain remarks with a clearing of his short throat. Fluffy people this, Lumpy people that, and though she kept her eyes trained upon him it was not long until his vivid stripes of red and white began to blend together in a fascinating hue of pink.  
She gave a short, stifled snort of derision. It was enough to interrupt her butler.  
“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” he asked politely, though they were both aware there was nothing polite about it.  
The Princess fought the urge to smile, and with the slightest wave of her hand, “Not at all, please continue.”  
Peppermint went back to the scroll in his hands, now mentioning the upcoming Back Rubbing Ceremony, and Princess Bubblegum inwardly sighed.  
Fighting the urge to fall asleep, she turned instead to gaze out her window. It was a marvelous thing with a panoramic view, the great double doors set amid a wall with fantastic murals of stained glass. Upon them were depictions of Candy Kingdom history, the trials, and triumphs of her people through the ages and though they were beautiful beyond imagining she paid them no mind at all. Instead, she found her eyes fixed upon the mountains and the gathering veil of darkness about their peaks.  
Her heart skipped a beat and her hand flew to her chest in sympathy, clutching at her powder pink bodice with a sudden desperation. With nary a thought of the unending afternoon report, the Princess threw open the doors to her grand balcony and ran to the edge, grasping the railing to lean as far forward as she dared. Somewhere behind her Peppermint Butler was protesting mightily, but her ears were as intent upon her target as her eyes, listening for the wind and watching for the building thunderheads that she surely saw upon the chocolate peaks across the plains to the east.  
“My Lady!” wheezed the short candy butler, “I don’t know what has gotten into you today, but…”  
“Peppermint, my telescope,” she interrupted, and her tone left no room for argument. With the ever-dutiful bow, he ducked back into her room only to appear less than a moment later with the requested item. Not a word passed between them as she took it and focused upon the horizon, hip up on the railing and body leaning over the edge, as if the building energies to the east were pulling upon her physically.  
For a long time she merely watched as roiling turbulences mounted in the towers of black cumulus, and the first arcs of a billion volts at 30,000 degrees kelvin shot through the dark. Some pink and some blue, they raced across the sky together with an entwined grace that looked as if it could rend the very threads of fate. The Princess felt a further quickening deep in her being and slowly she lowered the telescope. The butler assumed it was time to speak.  
“Princess, lets finish the report so we can retire for the day, it seems you are tired. Perhaps I could have the servants draw you a bath, or would you prefer time alone in the lab?” His small hand reached for hers, hoping to draw her inside, away from the black horizon that grew by the second, away from what had captivated her so utterly that it drew her away from their task. However, instead of going with him willingly, he found the Princess immovable. Again, she looked to the mountains, and this time a warm wind swept the hair away from her face, bringing with it the scent of crackling ozone and wet, windswept forests.  
With a knowing smile and a throaty purr she asked, “Peppermint Butler, have I ever explained to you the science behind lightening?”  
He could only stare wide-eyed as she began.  
“When warm air close to the ground rises, it joins the colder air high above it. They rise together, so high they condense to form ice and hail, and rain. When there is deep, atmospheric instability the upward rise of convective columns of cumulus congestus is vigorous and continuous, resulting in tall, powerful cloud columns.” The Princess paused long enough to close her eyes and visibly shudder, and her butler felt a moment of worry for her.  
“The interaction of the condensation particles within these columns results in a separation of charge, and the cloud becomes electrically stratified. When the voltage difference is great enough, the opposite charges discharge in the form of lightening.” She panted these last words, feathery voice barely audible above the strengthening winds. The striped man was almost certain she was trembling, and as she opened her soft blue eyes to look upon him again, he saw a mad sort of joy that frightened him.  
“Peppermint Butler,” she whispered, and again her hand flew to her breast in a futile attempt to still the coiling serpent looping its way around her heart, “I think it’s going to RAIN!” With that last word the serpent had struck, biting its fangs deep into quivering candy flesh with the promise that it implied.  
The little servant, always loyal and well mannered, could not stifle his groan, or the accompanying brow smack. For a long moment, he only stood that way, huge head in his tiny hand, eyes refusing to meet the Princess’ expectant gaze. Of course, he knew that there was only one course of action and had long ago learned not to fight his fate on the matter.  
“I will alert them at the gate,” and with a tiny bow, he was gone.  
Barely conscious of her interaction with the butler, Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum turned her resolute blue eyes back to the gathering thunderheads. The lightening shattered its way through the sky and she could now hear it, though still just a distant rumble. The scent of rain on the wind was unmistakable as the blackness loomed before her.  
“Yes, alert them at the gate!” she called to the encroaching wall of electrified night, “for she flies in on the storm. And I will have her.”

* * *

The mountains to the east were under the full weight of the electrical storm, a barren landscape almost continually illuminated by the hellish blasts from the storm. With each bolt that descended another dark stony corner or forested crevice stood revealed to the world, exposing its secrets, and the surface of an icy mountain lake glittered like the face of an enchanted mirror under the dancing colors of the angry sky.  
A traveler unlucky enough to be caught out in this storm might have happened upon the cave near the southern shore of this same lake, perhaps would have even considered venturing in for shelter. Of course, there was no such fool. For had anyone dared to approach the cavernous maw in the side of the mountain, they would have seen, from within the gloom the occasional flash of eyes reflecting the storm. Not the eyes of other stranded travelers or even human eyes at all, but rather the huge, almond shaped orbs of a hulking nightmare. They faintly glowed from within with their own hellfire and watched the advancing black with a fevered intensity.  
Within the wet cavern, great leathery wings stretched and flexed against clammy, confining rock walls. Tendon, sinew and muscle bunched and relaxed, straining hard against the desire to burst forth prematurely from the dark and take to sky. Needle sharp teeth clacked together twice in anticipation of the rain and a large, upturned bat nose could smell it heavy in the air, imminent. The demon, black as an abyss, crouched at the mouth of her cave, blocking much of it with her monstrous mass and turned her head upwards. Closing her eyes, the first of the heavy, warm droplets fell from the roiling heavens and began to bead in her shaggy coat. A smile to chill the blood crossed her wide, wicked face and great wings reflexively sprung as a growl grew deep in her chest.  
“I’m coming for you, Bonnibel,” and with the words the initial heavy droplets of rain became a shroud of torrential shadow upon the mountainside.


	2. Precipitation

The portcullis at the gates of the Candy Kingdom was drawn and barricaded, every window in the candy burg surrounding the castle was shuttered and all lights were turned out in all the little candy houses. The lightning was upon the plain now, rumbling at the doorstep of the kingdom with its sudden summer fury and none wished to contend with it, save those who stood upon the breastwork of the battlement. One hundred cannons, gumdrop-studded and brightly shellacked, stood lined up on the rampart and aimed upwards in the direction of the imminent storm. At every fifth cannon stood a heavy cart full of enough gobstopper munitions and cannon fuses to outlast an army of one thousand.  
Amid the wind and bustle, the Princess stood at her bronze diopter, carefully measuring angles against the speed of the wind and making trajectory calculations. None of them satisfied her, the wind kept changing speeds, and the rain would add yet another variable. Any estimation of trajectory at this point would be a hopeless effort. Instead, she relied again on the telescope, standing upon an exposed embrasure and scanning the pseudo night for her quarry.  
A small, quivering form approached her perch on the battlement and with a touch of irritation she turned away to face Starchy, the little gravedigger. His eyes were wide above his handlebar mustache.  
“Is everyone inside?” she asked absently, returning her gaze to the eyepiece.  
“Yes, Princess. With this thunder and lightning they needed little encouragement.” His pause was long, and significant. “Can…can you see her yet?”  
With a small, uncertain laugh she tried to assure him, “No, the refractive index is still too low.”  
“Oh, of course…the refract…dex...what?” Starchy stammered and this time the Princess’ laugh was genuine.  
“Starchy, don’t you remember my refraction lesson from last time?” In response to his blank expression she continued, “Refraction refers to the propagation of light through a medium, such as air…or water. The higher the index number, the more the light-waves are slowed and dispersed. Air has a refractive index of 1, while water is at least 1.3.”  
For a moment Starchy stood there looking thoughtful, “.3 is not much of a difference,” was finally all he could think to say.  
“No, not to us, but to a creature like her it means the difference between sheltering in the dark and flying free.” Her choice of words made the round man shudder. “You should return to the village, keep everyone inside and reassured.”  
With a small inclination of his head he was gone and the Princess again raised the telescope, barely having time to focus before, “Your Highness!” called a voice, and with a low growl she looked away from the storm to see her butler holding a large fuchsia bundle. “I must insist.”  
“Your timing is impeccable, as always,” she hissed, but knowing him to be right she climbed down and allowed herself to be fitted with the light armaments that were her preference. A heavy, long cloak with reinforced butterscotch shoulder plates was all she would abide, accompanied by a wide belt of thick fruit leather to which she hooked the sheath of her rapier. Peppermint Butler held the weapon up for his Princess to take, the forte and debole chiseled from the pinkest rock candy and the guard and handle fashioned from spun butterscotch. It sang as it sunk into its sheath, and she smiled.   
At that moment a bolt of lightning, no further than a thousand yards away, crashed upon the plain, thunder riding on its heels in a blast of hellish noise that seemed to last forever. Everyone had ducked down, some lying flat on their bellies in a submissive attempt to escape what they could not. Only the Princess and Peppermint Butler had remained unmoved, the look between them fraught with meaning.  
“My knife?” she ordered, and held out her hand. They locked eyes again for a moment while their wills clashed and he reluctantly presented the tiny silver dagger. Its sheath hung from a thin black strap. He turned away to allow her to hike up the hem of her dress and fasten the strap to her upper thigh.  
“Thank you, Peppermint,” and then a new commotion from behind drew her attention. Turning she saw Cinnamon Bun, a half-baked pastry of a man, and a dozen banana guards wheeling her newest experiment into the square behind the gate. It was, for all intent and purpose, much like the smaller cannons upon the city wall, but its chassis and barrel were ten times the size and was fitted with a payload of black licorice netting and jawbreaker bolas. Where the cannons all glittered like jewels, the massive prototype sat like a looming black hole amid pink space. The guards began the process of chaining each of its axels to the ground, lest recoil send it flying into the city behind.  
“Cinnamon Bun! I have preliminary trajectories for the bola gun. Can I count on you?”  
“Yes, Princess,” but his expression was blank as he turned to the prototype. Standing still for what seemed an unnervingly long time to the Princess, he turned back to her with that same blank expression. “What are we doing again?”  
Princess Bubblegum was about to remind him in a not so gentle manner when she felt it upon her pink skin, the first and then a second, followed by many. A stillness settled upon the battlement as everyone realized that the rain had come, and again, as if to announce its arrival, the lightning flashed like concentrated daylight through the dark. The Princess noticed with approval that her soldiers responded better to the thunder, their groveling reduced to jumps and flinches. It was all she could ask for.  
“She won’t be far beyond this first wave,” she whispered.  
“What of the powder and fuses, Your Highness?”  
“Oh, they’ve been treated. I have been working on my waterproof incendiaries for just such an occasion. I am far more concerned with how the licorice-bola gun will work, the rope alloys are still untested, and I can’t predict how much force they will withstand. Which reminds me…Cinnamon Bun!”  
Looking down again into his gooey, vapid face, she questioned her choice of gunner, but knowing it too late in the game to make changes, called down to him. “Keep it at 58 degrees for now. There are feedback readouts on the control panel that will tell you everything you need to know as you make adjustments. Just be sure you and your team are ready to move the chassis as needed and to fire when I tell you.”  
“Yes, Princess,” he squelched, and turned to the machine.  
Allowing for no more distractions, she turned her eyes again to the horizon, considering the telescope but knowing it was useless. The rain she had been watching for had arrived, and her quarry would not reveal herself openly. Instead, she would use her cloak of cloud and rain to full advantage. Even the fear tactics of thunder and lightning would be at her disposal and though Bonnibel Bubblegum was on her home turf, she was at the disadvantage.   
In response to her thoughts the rain increased, the sound becoming a loud murmur upon the sugar mortar, a sinister warning klaxon. It awoke a warrior.  
“Banana Guards! To your stations, arm your cannons!” She walked up and down the ranks, unsheathing the rapier and calling up either side of the battlement as the guards scrambled. Wheels rolled and barrels were leveled through each crenel, torches were lit and passed from station to station, the Princess calling to them all the while. She turned back to her Butler. “Perhaps you should hold down the castle.”  
“My place is by your side, Princess.” The tone in his voice allowed for no argument and she gave him none.  
“Ready your fuses! Wait for my signal; she’ll be coming in fast and low.”  
She turned her bright blue eyes to the sky, shutting them against the rain and letting it wash over her, long hair free in the wind as she bathed in the summer storm. “Fast and low,” she whispered to the sky, “isn’t that right, Marceline?”  
Though her eyes were closed to it, she could see the flash of another deadly close bolt of electricity, and felt in her very bones the accompanying rumble of rendered air molecules. This time, the rumble did not abate but grew, until Bonnibel’s eyes snapped open with the realization that the vibrations in her body were a demon’s laughter. All the movement upon the battlement had ceased, and the Princess thought for a moment that her heart would follow suit.  
“You think you know me, Bonnibel? Making predictions as if I were the weather?” A voice boomed all around them from supernatural vocal chords. It seemed to come not from without but within, as if a nightmare were inside their waking brains.  
The Princess tried to ignore it, turning to Cinnamon Bun again, “alter trajectory to 50 degrees.”  
Turning again to her guards, she raised the rapier and pointed along her right flank, “Upper right quadrant, fire!” and torches were brought to incendiary-laced fuses. Technicolor smoke bloomed from the gobstopper explosions both on the battlement and in the sky to their upper right. For a fleeting instant, the monstrous shadow had been revealed in the blast, but just as quickly, it was gone and replaced with slow, menacing peals of laughter.  
“You’ve usually used up your whole artillery by now, Bonnie, have you grown bored?” the voice came, softer now, from somewhere incredibly high above. “Is this little game wearing on you?”  
The demon’s choice of words gave the Princess pause and her gaze followed the source of the voice into the whorl of the towering storm, fixating on twin pinpoints of what seemed to be bits of blue sky. However, no sky over Glob’s green Ooo ever glowed like those points of light, and they were riveted upon Princess Bubblegum.  
“You’re no coward, are you, Marceline? Reveal yourself!” Bonnibel cried into the rain and with a mix of surprise and trepidation saw that she was obeyed, the twin points settling against a backdrop of ebony midnight fur punctuated by powerful limbs of rigor blue. Vespertilian wings pumped rhythmically in a hover high above them all, laughter like graveyard bells spilling from a leering, fanged mouth.  
“Don’t let her goad you, Your Highness,” she heard Peppermint Butler whisper, but it was too late for that. Bonnibel leapt now upon the merlon, shortening her distance as much as she could to the hovering nightmare.  
“Come then! If you dare! Though I know your first instinct is to run,” and to underscore the challenge she raised her rapier and pointed it at Marceline. “Right in the heart,” she added in a whisper that she knew only the vampire demon’s bat-like ears could hear. The Princess was not sure how she felt when she saw Marceline’s confident sneer falter and the cruel laughter hitch, and she wasn’t given the opportunity to ponder as those leathery wings maneuvered her foe into a steep dive. There was no laughter, only the sinister silence of flying death.  
Without thinking, she jumped down from the merlon and turned to her guards, many of them already backing away from their stations. “Hold your positions! All cannons, fire!”  
Again, technicolor flowers of smoke bloomed along the city walls as munitions filled the weeping sky. Whatever planning the guards put into aim and trajectory was rendered meaningless by the speed at which the demon flew, and her ability to dodge and roll in midair continued to defy the Princess’ understanding of physics, which was substantial. Still, Marceline was nearing that 50-degree mark, and amid the deafening noise of both the storm and the battle, Bonnibel found Cinnamon Bun and gave him the ready signal.  
She tried to ignore his uncertainty as she chanced one last glance at the oncoming projectile of fury, those glowing eyes absolutely pulsating with their intent. Bonnibel actually felt herself smile.  
“Low and fast, Marceline,” she called, “you never change,” and for the second time that afternoon Marceline’s eyes flashed with doubt.   
“Cinnamon Bun, now!” and for what seemed an eternity there was nothing. Turning to her gunner the Princess could hear the hissing of the hydro pistons that would send bolas and licorice-alloy netting spinning into the sky.   
“Did it fail, Princess?” Peppermint Butler asked and Bonnibel felt a flutter in her throat as she thought that perhaps it had. Being as such none was prepared for the noise of the prototype as it finally did discharge, propagating a shockwave strong enough to blow all those upon the battlement backwards against the crenellation. The black chassis strained against the chains holding the axels, throwing Cinnamon Bun several yards away.   
The first to recover from the blast, Bonnibel leapt again upon the merlon and watched her experimental payload. It behaved precisely as she hoped it would, the netting spread like a spider’s web in the sky directly in the monster’s path. Marceline had been so close when the gun did finally discharge that the Princess’ was certain of success, and when the two collided, she drew breath sharply.  
The demon was now a rolling black shadow of synthetic alloys and rain-soaked fur that continued to hurtle towards the wall. The Princess could no longer rein in her subject’s fear and allowed them to retreat from the impending destruction of the battlement. Only at the last second did Marceline’s terminal descent pull into a steep climb, laughter once again washing over all those present. Many of the retreating guards had stopped to listen.  
A shout of frustration and rage escaped from Bonnibel’s lips as she realized that the net hadn’t caught Marceline, but the other way around. The vampire demon hovered not too far above, a wicked gleam in her eye as she held the net in her jaws. In a manner much like a cat, she rolled on her back in mid air and shredded the licorice alloy like tissue paper. The Princess’ heart sank with the pieces to the muddy ground as Marceline laughed, and with horror rising like bile realized that the demon held one of the bolas in her paw. The brightly colored ball easily weighed a metric ton, yet Marceline rolled it around in her palm as if it weren’t there, grinning down at Bonnibel’s obvious fear.  
“Your bonds of sugar cannot hold me, Bonnie.”  
The Princess felt an involuntary heat rise to her cheeks and saw out of the corner of her eye her butler give her a withering look. It was dawning on her that control of the situation was slipping from her grasp, and now when she drew the rapier her hand shook.  
“Come at me then! Face to face!” she cried, masking her uncertainty under a false confidence.  
The demon chuckled as she considered the offer, looking again at the deadly projectile in her paw, a languid fanged smile spreading across her bat-like face. As if in slow motion she hoisted the ball high above and readied to throw it, and at that moment, a cannon blast sounded across the plain followed closely by a surprised scream. The bola slammed unused to the ground as Marceline’s right wing erratically tried to compensate for the crippling injury to the left.  
The Princess wheeled quickly around to Peppermint Butler and the last remaining banana guard to see them standing with a torch at the nearest cannon. With a furious speed, she set upon her butler, twisting his little tuxedo in her fist as she pulled him close.  
“Who ordered you to fire that cannon, Peppermint?” she hissed. He remained steadfast in his expression.  
“Your Highness, daylight is waning,” was all he said. It was all he needed to. If the battle were permitted to last beyond sunset then the last variable working in her favor would be removed.  
Distracted by this fact, Bonnibel didn’t see the demon’s approach until it was too late, and not twenty feet away the crippled nightmare crash landed heavily upon the battlement. Mortar and brick cracked and buckled under her weight, broken stones falling to the city street below as she pulled her self up from the edge. A bloody, maimed wing hung limply at her side as she turned to the Princess and bared her fangs in a snarl of fury. Marceline slunk slowly on all fours, changing shape as she moved, the wings shrinking and finally disappearing, eyes turning from brilliant blue to maddening concentric circles of blood red and toxic yellow. Where the enormous vespertilian Marceline had stood was now a smaller, lycanthropic version, luxuriant black fur and tail soaked in the rain, long snout fixated in a hellish smile full of needle sharp teeth. The spot on her shoulder where the injured wing had been smoked and hissed as the tissue granulated at a fantastic rate. It would only take minutes for the wound to disappear altogether.   
Throwing back her head, she voiced a long, low howl that echoed down through the streets of the shuttered burg and brought a shiver to all who heard. The last banana guard took it as his signal to retreat, and in a final effort to hold her ground the Princess once more raised the pink blade level with her opponent. Peppermint Butler made to stand in her defense, but she bade him stay.  
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Marceline all but whispered, “face to face?”  
“Since when have you been concerned with my wishes?” Bonnie returned, her eyes never leaving the wolf. She was careful to take note of every coiled muscle and twitching nerve underneath the waterlogged pelt.  
Marceline answered with a growl and an almost imperceptible bunching of powerful hindquarters as she prepared to spring. Bonnie tensed in response, the energy in the air between them as fraught with opposing electrical charge as any storm that sent forth lightning.   
“The battle is over, Princess. Just look around you; your army has fled, your secret weapon has failed and your city wall is broken. Even the sun is abandoning you. Surely an intellect as keen as yours has come to the realization by now.”  
“What realization is that?” and her blue eyes met Marceline’s. They swirled, like vortices, an unceasing rhythm of red and yellow that Princess found she could not look away from. A tiny bird of terror fluttered in her brain and was quickly extinguished by the stronger, irrational desire to stare unendingly into those eyes.   
The demon gave a short bark that may have been a laugh. “Is it so inconceivable to you? You’ve been defeated.” Slowly, she moved toward Bonnibel, never breaking eye contact.  
“You’re at my mercy…”  
Those eyes, Bonnie thought, why…?  
“Just say it, my Princess,” the looming nightmare crooned, inching ever closer.  
Why are they so…?  
She felt Marceline come to rest against the outstretched tip of her sword, a powerful figure standing tall over her. Neither scarcely dared to breath. The only thing Bonnie could perceive other than her opponent was the stinging sensation of the hail that had begun to fall. Tiny marbles of ice littered the stones of the battlement in a drone so loud the Princess had to strain to hear the demon’s velvety words that no longer mocked, but pleaded.  
“Say that you surrender.”   
With a sigh that was nearly a groan Bonnie realized that her sword had become very heavy, and her arm quivered with the effort of keeping it aloft. All the while, her mind screamed, No, no, no, no! Never! Still the rapier dragged her arm downward as her knees began to weaken against the weight of her suddenly exhausted body. A ponderous paw reached for her, slowly closing jagged talons around the blade, a slow smile parting from wicked teeth.  
“So…beautiful,” Bonnie breathed, and Marceline stopped short. In her surprise, she gave an involuntary and very canine-like sneeze and a slight wag of the tail. The sword forgotten, she moved her muzzle in closer, never taking her eyes from the Princess’.   
A desperate voice, as if in the distance, pierced the veil that surrounded them, “She’s Charming you, Princess!” It was Peppermint Butler, who despite Bonnibel’s every warning had never left her side. With a snarl, Marceline broke her eye contact and snapped her jaws at the striped man, the mistake dawning on her an instant too late. Quickly scrambling backwards, she felt the blade of the rock candy rapier slice through the soft flesh of her muzzle. She stared at Bonnie, incredulous.  
“It should have been your throat,” the Princess called. Everything about her stance challenged Marceline, dared her, and the demon accepted without hesitation.  
They became a blur of pink and black in the hailstorm, making eerily little noise other than the ringing of the candy blade as Bonnibel parried Marceline’s attacks. She could feel the wind from lupine claws as they swiped at her, and smell the sweet-sour breath every time fanged teeth clicked inches from her face. Slowly but surely the Princess was being driven backward against the wall of the turret where she would no longer have the option of retreat. The hail had again become rain and melted the ice into a slippery slush that made sure footing difficult, and many of Bonnibel’s thrusts met with empty air as she struggled to keep her balance.   
In her desperation to avoid being pinned against the turret, she abandoned the defensive tactic and advanced forward, surprising the demon by walking right into her attack. Ignoring the ripping of cloth the Princess sank the tip of her blade deep into Marceline’s hip, eliciting a preternatural shriek that startled her. Withdrawing, she took a step back, heaving a chest that now stood bare in the rain underneath the tattered remains of her dress.   
Marceline stood doubled over a few feet in front of her, eyes downcast and body shaking with what Bonnie supposed must be pain; the blade had gone terribly deep, even for a demon. For a moment, she fought the urge to go to her, but as Marceline raised her head again the look that smoldered in her eyes riveted Bonnie’s feet to the ground. An ominous growl rumbled deep in her throat.  
There was no parrying what came next. One second the demon had been in one place and the next she was upon her, knocking into her with such force that the air left her lungs and the rapier flew from her grasp. It happened with such speed that before she was even sure of what had happened, she felt herself being spun around and her arms locked behind her back. The Princess tried to kick and bite but it was like struggling against the embrace of impending death, and she watched with helpless horror as her captor brought her to edge of the city wall and over it with maniacal laughter sounding in her ears.  
Bonnibel refused to scream as she closed her eyes to sight of the ground rushing up at her, her own pounding heart beating in rhythm with that of the nightmare that held her close. Suddenly her stomach was in her knees as a force exceeding a G pulled her upwards again, and chancing a glance behind her, saw that the wolf had again become the bat. Maintaining a tight grip on her prey, Marceline flew at a terrible speed with a freshly mended wing through the thickening darkness over the kingdom below. Instead of the ground, her own tower loomed closer and closer in her field of vision, along with the brightly colored mural of her chamber window. Every fiber of her being screamed that they were going to drive face first into the glass, and the demon’s shrill, unending laughter confirmed it.  
The Princess tensed herself against the impact, and in an unexpected maneuver that would have puzzled a physicist, Marceline rolled forward. She folded her wings around them both in a dark, leathery cocoon, holding Bonnie close against her chest. Like a drumbeat, Bonnie could hear Marceline’s heart as she sank into her embrace, and then they hit the glass.


	3. Dissipation

The Princess wasn’t sure how long she had been unconscious, but as the haze finally lifted from her weary mind she saw that the storm still raged on, wind and rain blowing through a jagged hole in what remained of the stained glass window. A litter of rainbow shards covered her chamber floor, intermixed with smatterings of blood. Gathering her strength, she attempted to push herself up. Only then did she realize that Marceline was lying beneath her, arms still wrapped tightly around her as they had during their descent into the tower.  
Bonnie felt her heart skip a beat as she stared down into the peaceful face. The bat wings were gone; the wolf muzzle was just a memory, and Marceline the Vampire Queen lay below her both beautiful and vulnerable, raven hair surrounding her naked body like a shroud. She was tall and sinewy, barely a woman but hardly a child, and almost completely flat in the chest. Across the bridge of her nose was the bright, red gash that Bonnie’s rapier had dealt her on the battlement, and on the crest of her hip, a deep puncture wept slowly. Even in deep unconsciousness, her many wounds were healing, albeit slower than the wing had healed during the battle. Bonnie supposed the vampire was as exhausted as she was, and she moved carefully to loosen the arms holding her. With a slight pang, she realized that she herself was unhurt; Marceline’s wings had protected her.  
Raising a hand slowly and carefully, the Princess brushed a lock of hair out of Marceline’s face, and as a fingertip ever so slightly brushed her temple, the vampire’s eyes flew open. Bonnie froze as angry crimson eyes locked with her own and a blue hand gripped her wrist with near enough force to break it. Throwing the Princess backwards to the floor, Marceline sat up, and as she lunged for Bonnie again, the tip of the silver dagger stopped her short. Holding perfectly still above the Princess, she stared at the blade, eyes meeting Bonnie’s as her lips parted in a fanged smile.  
“I keep forgetting you have that thing,” she muttered.  
“I’ve reminded you plenty of times,” Bonnie answered, resolutely holding the blade to the vampire’s chest as her eyes flitted to the twin notches she had long ago dealt Marceline’s left ear.   
Many long heartbeats passed before either of them broke the silence, but finally Marceline said, “You got personal out there. Something you want to tell me, Princess?”  
Bonnibel clenched her teeth, “I’m not the only one who got personal. I heard your insults before I even saw your face!” A fire blazed in her blue eyes as she leaned in closer, her tender, pink lips foremost in Marceline’s field of vision. “You humiliated me.”  
“You humiliated yourself,” the vampire scoffed, “what were you thinking by trying to catch me in a net? There is no rope woven that can hold me.”  
“Give me time, and I’ll weave it.”  
The blue of Marceline’s cheeks deepened in the undead equivalent of a blush, and she broke her gaze. “What you said to me, on the wall,” she whispered, “was that you, or my Charm that chose those words?”  
So…beautiful.  
The Princess smirked, “Do you really think you can still Charm me? I was in control the whole time.”  
Marceline’s eyes widened as she considered this possibility, but then she returned Bonnie’s scornful smile, “You’re a liar.”  
“Oh, am I?” and the silver dagger again reminded Marceline who was in charge, pushing her back into a sitting position on her knees. A sharp hiss issued from between clenched fangs as the vampire winced, and when she opened her eyes Bonnie’s gaze was inches from her own. When the Princess again spoke, it was with all the authority a lineage of leadership could offer her, “If you think this battle is over, Marceline Abadeer, you have another thing coming.”  
Unsure of how to proceed, Marceline just gawked, so the Princess answered for her. Dropping the dagger, her pink hands found either side of Marceline’s face and pulled it close, lips meeting in a crash as violent as any that day, fingers twisting possessively in satiny, black hair as for an eternity they simply breathed together.   
A small groan of disappointment betrayed the Princess as she broke the kiss, her hands still embedded deep in the vampire’s lustrous hair. Marceline’s crimson eyes smoldered as they held the other’s gaze in a long stillness, broken only by the sound of now distant thunder.   
“Before this storm is over, one of us will surrender,” Bonnie growled.  
“You sound very sure of yourself. It has already begun to dissipate,” the vampire gasped.  
“Shut up,” again their lips met, softly this time, and a familiar heat began to burn between them. It was short lived as Bonnie’s hand tightened its grip on Marceline’s hair as one would the reins of a horse, guiding her to a position on the floor. Her opponent offered little resistance, allowing Bonnie to straddle her and arching her long back against her lover’s touch as the Princess’ other hand found Marceline’s right breast, nipple diamond hard between her pink fingers. She bared her fangs in a silent cry.  
“It’s your fault for not wearing any clothing. For leaving yourself vulnerable on purpose,” and hot, pink lips closed around the cool flesh of Marceline’s nipple. Bonnie’s fingers still wound deeply in the vampire’s mane, never slackening even when her lover’s hands began to wander. Icy fingers found the remnants of the battle torn bodice and quickly finished the job, ripping open the tattered fabric and pink breasts fell free, soft as marshmallow, and swollen with arousal.   
Bonnie stopped to look up at her, silently taking Marceline’s hands in her own and bringing them down to the floor on either side of her, positioning each of her knees across the vampire’s forearms. Marceline lifted a single brow, her smile uncertain as the Princess used the last of her strength to pin her to the floor.  
“What are you thinking?”   
Hands free again, Bonnie reached for Marceline’s face, running a thumb across dusky blue lips that opened to take it in. She sucked greedily, scraping flesh with sharp teeth as the Princess withdrew with a smile.  
“I’m thinking I want you to keep your hands to yourself.” Her wet thumb again teased Marceline’s hard nipple while she leaned in for another kiss, stopping just short of her lover’s lips to enjoy the heat of her breath as the vampire panted. Red eyes pleaded, but she held firm, demanding that Marceline rise to meet her. Relenting, she did, a long, serpent-like tongue entering Bonnie’s hungry mouth, forearms straining against their bonds.  
Shifting her weight in response, the Princess again sat up, this time reaching behind and running warm fingers across the cool, taut flesh of Marceline’s thighs. Her lover’s hips reacted of their own accord, rising underneath her as she spread her legs and mewled with need.   
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Bonnie whispered, trying to chide but her voice was out too husky, too low. As it was, her fingers had responded with as little thought as Marceline’s hips had, toying with the slick flesh that begged for her touch. She rubbed her thumb rhythmically against Marceline’s aroused clit, a single finger dipping occasionally at an entrance that, in contrast to the vampire’s cool skin, absolutely burned with liquid fire. Marceline purred deep in her throat, choking back a cry as the Princess stopped her ministrations and withdrew her moist hand. Locking eyes with her lover, Bonnie slowly licked the taste of Marceline from her finger, grinding her hips against her. Again, she felt those forearms struggling beneath her.  
The vampire went still, watching the Princess with a strange light behind the crimson of her eyes, and Marceline began to laugh softly. Bonnie suddenly felt self-conscious, and realizing the laugh was not one of mirth, a cold chill slowly crept up her spine. Marceline’s eyes changed, becoming blood-red pinpoints amid seas of black. It was dawning on the Princess that the cold chill upon her back was not her terrified nerves, but an actual, physical form. She reacted too late, and a long, cold tentacle gripped firmly upon what remained of her dress and cloak, yanking her backwards with fearsome force.   
Nothing but black swirled before her vision as Marceline covered her; strong, mucosal tentacles sprouted from her back in a twisted parody of butterfly wings, winding tightly around Bonnie’s ankles and wrists as they pinned her to the floor. Their situation now reversed, the vampire continued her quiet laughter.  
“You think you can just tease me like that and not get what’s coming to you?” she finally breathed, her mouth lowered over Bonnie’s heaving breast. A long, forked tongue twisted around a taut nipple, increasing the pressure until she elicited a cry, sliding another tentacle between the Princess’ open lips. She had expected Bonnie to fight it, not to take it in her mouth so quickly, so eagerly, the heat of her mouth and lithe tongue closing around her. With an involuntary shudder, she felt a rush of wetness from between her thighs, tightening the grip on her lover in response. Watching with half-lidded eyes, the Princess suppressed a smile and intensified her pace, allowing the tentacle deeper in her mouth as she felt Marceline move lower. Long, cool fingers pushed up the hem of her dress, trailing along the hot flesh of her ample thighs, followed by soft kisses and the flicker of a long tongue.  
“Oh Bonnie,” Marceline sighed, “you’re not wearing anything under your dress.” Again, her tongue ran languidly across Bonnie’s skin. Tentacles like ropes of solid muscle firmly held the Princess’ quivering legs apart as the vampire lowered herself over the swollen, glistening lips of Bonnie’s sex. The sweet scent was overpowering. “That’s like admitting defeat before you even begin.”   
Without ceremony, Marceline closed her mouth over dripping folds of sugar sweetness, Bonnie’s back arching as she flared her hips invitingly. The vampire gently sucked on the pearl of her clitoris as she watched her in the twilight of the room, a long finger tentatively playing with the entrance that beckoned her. One finger became two, and tight walls of muscle clamped around them, threatening to hold her in place. Few urges had ever come so strongly as the one that demanded she put her tongue inside, removing her hand and filling the Princess with the twisting shaft of muscle.  
This time Bonnie’s hips came clear off the ground and Marceline caught them, holding her up towards her mouth as she thrust gently with her tongue. They rocked together until finally Marceline withdrew, her own desire welling from within. She removed the tentacle from the Princess’ mouth, leaning forward between her legs to kiss her, their tongues sliding together as the vampire ground her pelvis against Bonnie’s throbbing clit. She strained against her tentacle bonds and Marceline relented, slackening her grip until the Princess could throw her arms around her neck.   
Their breasts crushed together as Bonnie pulled her down and deeper into the kiss, returning the rhythm of Marceline’s hips with her own. She ran her pink hands along the tentacles on Marceline’s back, feeling the slick muscles spasm under her touch. Burying her face in raven black hair, she turned her wet lips to Marceline’s ear.  
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, and the vampire froze.  
She said nothing, sitting up enough to lock eyes with the Princess. A look very near fear crept over her as Bonnie ran her hand down the tentacle from her left shoulder until she found the tip, caressing it gently. Grasping it, she ran it through the wet heat of her folds, rubbing it against the throbbing bud of her clit. Marceline hissed through clenched fangs, resting her forehead against Bonnie’s in a sudden swoon.  
“Do you know how sensitive they are, my Princess?” she panted.  
“Oh Marceline,” her voice was feathery, and she kissed her so lightly they barely felt it, “there are nights when I think of nothing else.” There was no fear or hesitation as she took Marceline deep inside herself, the vampire’s sharp cry shattering the quiet of the darkened chamber. Bonnie pumped it slowly in and out, squeezing gently with tight, wet walls and another unhindered cry filled her ear as Marceline collapsed on top of her.   
Seizing the opportunity, she rolled the vampire on her back, never relinquishing her hold of the tentacle pulsating within her. It was becoming difficult to ignore the mounting pressure in her chest and loins, the desire to cum long and hard around her lover, but instead she kissed Marceline fiercely once more before shifting her attention downward.  
Marceline’s hand suddenly cupped her face. “No,” she murmured.  
The Princess gazed gently at her, taking the cool hand in her own and entwining their fingers together. “Yes,” and she dipped her mouth between Marceline’s sweat slick thighs. The taste of her was ancient and wild, like rain on a lonely mountainside, and Bonnie gratefully sought every drop at the source with the tip of her tongue. The vampire’s breathing quickened as she clamped her teeth together, fingers winding in Bonnie’s thick hair as she thrust her hips against her lover. Throwing back her head, she bared her fangs in a final loud cry, the waves of her orgasm overtaking her as she came in the Princess’ mouth, arching her back into it.   
With one last thrust of the tentacle, she brought Bonnie with her, and their voices harmonized together as they slipped down the blissful spiral. It lasted only a moment, but it also stretched on forever, and they clung to each other as if in fear the other would disappear.   
When the waves had subsided, they both laid still and quiet in the dark, listening to the last droplets of rain slowly tapping on the balcony. The Princess held Marceline in her arms; the vampire’s face nestled in her chest.  
“I’ll never understand you, Bonnibel Bubblegum,” she finally whispered.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re always so cold, so calculating, but tonight... You’ve never loved me like that.”  
She pulled Marceline away from her breast and kissed her, slowly and sweetly, further confusing the vampire. “As far as you’re concerned, I’ve hypothesized, and tonight proven, that the best way to be cold and calculating is to be warm…and loving.”  
Marceline’s eyes widened and she laughed until she felt like crying, lightly returning Bonnie’s kiss before saying, “That’s it; you win. I surrender.”  
The meaning of her words dawned on her and they beheld each other in the sudden silence of the night. The Princess smiled; outside, the rain had stopped.

End  
****************************

Adventure Time and characters are created by Pendleton Ward and all standard disclaimers apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. More dark AU to come for those interested.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 coming soon, reviews and feedback welcome


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